


dark and stormy

by fruitbattery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Other, Vampires, they/them Mollymauk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: In the presence of an intimidating old mansion, what's a tiefling lost in a storm to do?





	dark and stormy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: https://versatilememes.tumblr.com/post/182720751355/me-wearing-nothing-but-a-sheer-plunge-neck

The lanky figure leans against the railing on the steps up to the mansion and waits. Their magnificent white gown is looking sadder by the minute, the ruffles on the shoulders drooping from the rain, the neckline sagging lower under the weight of the waterlogged silk. Their black horns glisten with raindrops in the light from the single hooded lantern on a post by the door.

Off in the distance, miles away over the fields, the moon shines out through a break in the clouds, bathing the figure in ethereal light, illuminating their every movement as they shake and shiver, stamp their feet and clutch themself against the cold.

Mollymauk of House Tealeaf jumps in surprise as the door creaks open. The edge of another black, ridged horn pokes around the door, and they suppress a relieved, happy grin at the sight. The face that follows the horn is round and blue, cheeks fading to purple, as the owner of the horn looks Mollymauk up and down.

“What might a girl like you be doing out on a night like this?”

Continuing to shiver, Molly tries to smile at her. “Believe me, I am no woman. I’ve simply lost my way I know not how many miles back, and I am so tired.” As if to emphasize the point, Molly’s shoulders sag, and the blue woman immediately reaches a hand out. 

“Please, my dear, come inside. It is too cold a night for you to be out here with so little to cover your shoulders.” She opens the door with a wide smile and beckons Molly inside.

As the door shuts, the outside lantern light is cut off, plunging the strangely windowless room into complete darkness. There’s a quick shuffle of footsteps, the creak of a lantern shutter opening, and suddenly Molly feels a presence behind them. “You may call me Duchess Lavorre,” says the tiefling, breath cool across their already shivering neck. “Let us get you upstairs– you are soaked to the bone, no?” Duchess Lavorre’s much shorter form presses against Molly’s back until she’s practically murmuring right into their shoulder, and Molly swears they can feel the slightest hint of fangs grazing their flesh as they begin to walk where pushed. 

The Duchess leads them up a set of grand, dusty stairs by the flickering light of the lantern, her hand at the small of their back guiding them over the still-wet silk gown. Molly is simply gazing around at the dilapidated house, one which surely once was beautiful but has fallen into disrepair. They feel a prickle on the back of their neck, and can’t help but pipe up: “Ah– Duchess Lavorre? If I may be so bold, how did you come across such a… beautiful house?”

Molly can practically hear the smile in the noblewoman’s voice as she answers. “Well, darling, a woman can’t give up all of her secrets, now can she?” A shiver runs up Molly’s spine from the cold and the proximity, Lavorre’s lips barely brushing their neck as the two travel in tandem up the sweeping staircase. At the top landing, Jester’s hand slides to Molly’s left hip and pushes forwards, and as if on autopilot, they turn to the right, letting out a little squeak at the sudden change in contact. The clawed hand suddenly pulls back a little, smacking Molly on the hip and making them jump. They immediately duck their head a little and continue walking. The Duchess’s measured, even breaths are in stark contrast to Molly’s frantic shivering and shallow huffs, so it’s a good thing when the Duchess steers them once again to the right, pressing up against their back again as she fumbles on her belt for the key. 

Reaching around Molly’s torso with both hands to unlock the door in front of them, Molly’s breath stutters again at the closeness. The lock clicks with a twist of the woman’s elbow, pressing even tighter into Molly’s side. The door now open, the mysterious woman pushes, and it swings wide. Molly gapes at the scope of the room: a huge four-poster bed to the left, a veritable army of couches to the right. The ceilings are vaulted and drafty. Jester gently guides them over to the dust-covered bed, then kneels at a fireplace across from the door and whispers a few words. A fire springs up in the hearth as she turns back to face Molly, and lets them see her properly for the first time.

She looks far more resplendent than the state of the house might indicate. Her puffy white shirt looks like it might fall right off of her, were it not for the blue ribbon zig-zagging up her arms from the point where the sleeves drape down almost to the floor. Her high-waisted navy skirt starts form-fitting, but quickly flares into a mess of lace and ruffles and undoubtedly a multitude of petticoats. Her horns and ears are adorned with jewelry, and her soft-looking blue hair cascades down her back. Her heavily freckled blue skin glows in the firelight, and she’s beaming with delight. Molly almost catches themself thinking that she’s never looked more beautiful. 

Duchess Jester Lavorre steps forward slowly, her eyes roving over the entire length of Molly’s body. “We should really get that wet dress off of you, dear. You look terribly cold.”

The corner of Molly’s mouth quirks in a wicked grin as they reply. “Well, the fire certainly helps, but I would not say no to some…. additional warmth.” 

The Duchess barely holds back a giggle as she takes a step forward and wordlessly hooks a finger under the neckline of Molly’s dress, beginning to pull it aside and lean in towards Molly. As more and more of the pale purple clavicle is exposed, Jester leans in and plants a kiss in the hollow of their neck. Molly shudders as she starts to nip at their favorite spot, growing more insistent, and finally capturing their skin in a bloodless bite. 

Molly shoves her back with no real force behind it. “Mistress Lavorre! Pray tell, just what do you mean to do with me? Are you some sort of… fiend?” 

Jester looks down at Molly sternly before breaking her facade completely, dropping her head and laughing into their shoulder. Molly throws their head back and laughs as well, Jester taking the opportunity to nip gently just below their Adam’s apple once she calms down a little. “Mistress? Really? That wasn’t the name we agreed to, but I’m sure I could be persuaded if you really wanted–” Jester is cut off by Molly’s lips crashing into hers for the first time that evening, instantly reciprocating hungrily. She squirms in Molly’s lap, and they break away from her to groan, quiet and low. 

“God, Jes– I almost couldn’t get Gustav to let me leave on time– I’m so glad–”

“Shut _up_ , Mollymauk of House Tealeaf,” she says, and continues grinding in their lap slowly, deliberately. “You make the most beautiful sounds when you are not talking.” As if to illustrate the point, she pulls Molly’s top down further, brushing her thumb over their nipple, and smiles when she hears the noise they make. Slowly, Jester pushes on Molly’s shoulders until they’re completely laid back on the bed.

“Shall we warm you up, my helpless maiden?”


End file.
